What Menardi Says
by The Shadowess
Summary: Menardi is a talker. Ivan is a teaser. Menardi persists, Ivan laughs. Victims are backed into a corner while wishing profusely that they shut up. Saturos/Isaac


"Fire and earth share a symbiotic relationship." -- _Menardi

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**What Menardi Says **

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Okay, I admit, I have some really serious problems.

For one. I'm trooping all over the world to light a bunch of _lighthouses_ for some crazy aquamaniac psycho. With the most freaking longest hair I have ever seen.

For another. I can _not_ believe I let Menardi use our last herb to make herself tea. She doesn't even _drink_ tea; she only did it because I told her she didn't.

And again. Somehow, _some way_, Felix and Menardi and Alex and Jenna and _Kraden_ have wheedled me into carrying all of our stuff. _All_ of it. That old man is a pack rat, good Mars; he's our hostage and yet still collects a sample of every little thing that comes our way. And he manages to pick out the most damn heavy things. Menardi tells me I walk funny, now. Wonder why?

And the last, well, I'm not saying it's true or anything. Menardi says it all, don't look at _me_. Honestly. But still. She says I stare at that…I don't know. That kid. With the hair. Not the tall one who looks like he grew up in hair gel, that skinny kid. Crazy hair, quiet. Isaac, that's his name. Or that's what Menardi says.

But anyway, I do _not_ stare at him. I _look_ at him, because he's our _enemy_, right? You normally have to look at your enemies to be able to glare angrily and stuff like that, _right?_

Menardi says this sort of thing is denial.

Okay, fine, so, I might, like, look at him a little more than necessary. Fine, I stare. What's wrong with staring? Menardi says I kind of space out. I don't, I just…stop concentrating on what's going on. Happens to everyone.

Yeah, so I stare. I space out – only a little bit.

Menardi says I drool over the kid.

I do _NOT._

I absolutely _assure_ you, I do _not_ drool. No. Not at all. I _swear_.

Really.

Fine, I think the kid's pretty damn cute, a little, maybe, with the messy hair and the scarf and that blush he gets because his skin's pale. Yeah, he has a nice butt. So what?

They're perfectly normal…observations.

I can see Menardi in my head.

I can hear her tsking.

Oh, damn.

Fine, fine, okay. Maybe I like the kid. A little. I'm a growing man, okay, there's no problem if I get a little, you know, attracted to someone or anything. Yeah, he's good looking, I think so. So what?

I wouldn't mind sleeping with the kid or anything. Anything wrong with that?

Oh, shut up.

* * *

Okay, my whole life is one serious problem.

I mean, look at me. How did I get roped into running all over creation to stop a bunch of psychopath hippies from lighting a bunch of lighthouses? Seriously, that Alex guy, all he needs is a green and pink beaded headband and some meditative breathing to go with his hair. I can just imagine him, "Groovy," oh my God.

Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, I want to _kill_ him. I thought we had an agreement that he wouldn't go around reading our minds, and now he does _not only that_, but creating all these little whirlwinds so our hair blows all over the place, and using reveal on village girls so they look like they're walking around in their underclothes. Mia had a fit, yelling at me that it was all _my_ fault, that I was supposed to understand 15-year-old mentality and how they do _exactly what you tell them not to._

On another matter, that _stupid_, stupid Ivan and his groupies, Mia and Garet, have suddenly decided to get all righteous and heroic, by accepting _every single request_ someone throws at us. Now, how do planting trees, fetching water and bringing some old geezer back to life tie into all this "saving the world" stuff? Ivan tells me I'm just lazy. Well, screw him; he doesn't even _do _anything, gah.

Stupid Ivan, stupid Ivan, my thoughts are mine; I don't think he understands that. I think it's become a daily habit for him to read my mind, and he seems to take the strangest meanings from perfectly innocent ideas. I mean, a while ago, one day after the Mercury Lighthouse, he told me I had been checking out that guy we were fighting. What in the _world_? We were _fighting _him, sheesh, and I normally look at people before we kill them or anything. Checking out Saturos – ha, right. I mean, Ivan said his name was Saturos. Not like I…like I cared, or anything.

Ivan says I'm a terrible liar.

Well, blah. There are multiple definitions for the phrase "checking out", anyway. Who's to say it wasn't one of the others? Ivan has issues, is all. He looks for reasons to laugh at us.

Ivan still thinks I was checking him out.

Venus, godly Venus, kind Venus, please give me the power to chop that little brat's head off.

Well, yeah, maybe I was "checking him out". Maybe a bit. Saturos does have a nice figure, you know. Muscular frame, but curved slightly at the right places. Tall. Weird skin color, but it looks good on him. Dark, and not exactly stiff or anything, more like…poised. He has neat hair, sloping over his eye and everything. Kinda imposing-like, with the calm and the sword and the shining armor, with his cape flapping in the breeze behind him. He looks cool.

You know, Ivan tells me I always take in too much detail.

No, I don't. I don't even remember what color his tunic was, ha, see? If I_ did _observe too much, then I'd know his tunic was _blue,_ under his armor, like his skin and hair and…

Argh.

Alright, _alright_, so what if I think he's, like, good looking or something, huh? Yeah, he's pretty hot, I'll admit it. I bet loads of people notice that, though, since he's so slender and strong and…sexy. He probably attracts a lot of attention.

Ivan calls this infatuation.

How do you even _spell_ that?

Actually, I don't really care.

* * *

Saturos sighed as he rested his arms on the wooden table, gazing around at all the other inn guests eating dinner. It was late, the sun had set quite a while ago, and the dining hall of the inn was packed, every table full. Forget about the town, this _inn_ should have been called Vault. Why the hell he was here anyway, he didn't know. Alex and the others had left him here with all their stuff for safekeeping while they trudged up to Vale to get…something. He didn't know.

So, yep, he was stuck here in this stuffy inn. There was nothing to do in his room, it was _boring_, so he had come down for a late drink. Horrible quality, the inn wine.

Saturos wished he had chosen to stay in his room. It was too loud and busy down here, although he did have a table to himself. The other guests were slightly apprehensive of his dark look, and the strange color of his skin. He didn't mind. Alex was weirder.

His table was next to the large fireplace in the room. It was early spring, though still freezing at night, and at the moment a torrent of rain was cascading down the opposite side of the windows. The supports of the inn creaked slightly in the wind.

Saturos watched the fire as it slowly began to die down. There was plenty of wood, but the small amounts of water that dripped at random intervals from the chimney were getting the better of it. Saturos glanced about him warily to make sure no one was watching, then lazily flicked a finger at the remaining flame. It flickered for a moment, then flared back up, bathing the room in warmth once again. No one noticed.

A waitress hurried by, carrying a platter of cooked lamb wrapped in some sort of plant. Rosemary, Saturos thought, judging by the look. As she set the lamb down for an old couple and began to walk back towards the kitchens, Saturos signaled to her and gestured to his glass. She nodded and a continued on her way, through the kitchen doors.

A mother and her two children finished their meal and retired upstairs, and two young girls came down, immediately taking the vacant table.

The inn was _too_ full.

Saturos ran a finger over the edge of his empty wine glass. Almost on cue, the waitress returned, balancing three bowls of soup and a small basket of rolls on her right arm while holding a red labeled bottle with her left hand. Maneuvering skillfully between the tables, she carefully uncorked the bottle with one hand and tipped it slightly, filling his glass. He nodded his thanks as she inched her way to the next table.

As he watched her to see how she'd manage with the next order, the inn door blew open, and a gust of wind tore through the room, upsetting an empty basket. The door was quickly closed behind the new arrival. Saturos took a sip of his wine, taking in how the waitress had caught the basket with her foot while carrying an armful of empty dishes. The innkeeper's voice carried towards him as she talked to the person who had just come in.

"I'm sorry, sir, I think all of our rooms are full at the moment. Feel free to sit and have a bite while I go see if I can't make some arrangements for you."

Turning away from the waitress, who had just disappeared into the kitchens again after flipping the basket upright onto a shelf by kicking her foot into the air, Saturos looked over at who the innkeeper was talking to. They seemed to be wearing a long brownish cloak over their head and were thoroughly soaked. The person was making their way to the dining area. Saturos averted his gaze, now listening to a small child wail as his father tried vainly to shush him.

Fabric shifted, the table moved very slightly. Startled, Saturos realized the person wearing the cloak had come to sit at his table, next to him. He glanced around; no wonder, all the other tables were still full.

The one in the cloak paid no mind to him, however; they simply leaned towards the fireplace and remained silent. They seemed to be focusing their attention on the flames that danced over the blackening wood. Saturos watched they person in subtle fascination; anyone who shared his views and could be so taken by a simple fire was bound to be interesting.

Saturos took another sip of wine.

The person seemed to think they were warm enough so that they could do without the hood. Wet gloved hands reached out of the folds of the cloak to push the hood back to their shoulders.

Saturos blinked and set down the wine.

This person…they reminded him…was it…

"Um…"

The person finally turned, finally looked at him.

They stared.

Isaac's eyes widened, and Saturos glanced down before looking at him again.

"Uh…hey?" He offered.

A slight pink tinted Isaac's cheeks. He started reaching towards his back, where his sword was strapped, and stopped.

An awkward silence passed.

"Oh, sir!"

The innkeeper returned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I couldn't get any available rooms for you. Do you think you can manage…?"

* * *

What Isaac wanted to know was, how _did_ he end up here, in Saturos' room, with shoes and gloves and scarf and sword forgotten on the carpet, in Saturos' bed.

With Saturos.

What he _also_ wanted to know was why did it matter.

Saturos pulled at Isaac's hair, resting his chin in it. "Say," he breathed, "How the hell did you end up in Vault, anyway?"

Isaac buried his face into Saturos' shoulder, as it happened to be the closest thing at hand. "Did you hear about Lunpa?"

"I didn't have the pleasure."

"We went to save Ivan's boss-person who got kidnapped there," Isaac murmured. "The others went back to Kalay, but I said I had some business left." He wriggled slightly as Saturos circled his arms around him. "I wanted to check that Donpa was okay."

"Hn."

Saturos scooted down so that he was eye level with Isaac. He pecked him on the nose, then cheek, before going to his mouth. Isaac returned the kiss readily. "So," he whispered, "What happened to you?"

"Hn."

Isaac growled slightly at the lack of response. Saturos grinned and gave his attention to Isaac's left earlobe in apology. Isaac let out a tiny mew.

"Like a cat." Saturos laughed softly. He pulled Isaac closer.

"Meow," Isaac returned, frowning.

Damn it, he was so damn _cute_, arrgh. Saturos gave him a tight squeeze and let go, forcing him to lie back as he climbed on top of him. Isaac pushed him off.

So damn cute, but hard to get at. "Little fucker," Saturos hissed, although smiling.

Isaac kissed his jaw. "Yes," he agreed solemnly.

Saturos let Isaac play with his shirt. "Now, what do you think you're doing?" he inquired, chuckling.

Isaac tugged at his sleeve. "I'm admiring the craftsmanship. Very nice embroidery." He snuggled into Saturos' chest, who laughed again. Isaac yawned.

Saturos pulled the covers up slightly. This stupid, cute kid was teasing him, and sure as hell was not going to let him have him. "You're mean, you know that?"

Isaac smiled. "So I've heard." He closed his eyes.

Saturos sighed and wrapped his arms around Isaac's shoulders.

There was silence. Then…

"Saturos?"

"Mm?"

"Why is your hand in my pants?"

Damn.

* * *

Symbiotic (sĭm-bē-ŏt-ĭk): _adjective_: 1: A close prolonged association between two or more different organisms of different species. 2: A relationship of mutual benefit or dependence. Greek, _sumbiōsis_, companionship; _sumbioun_, to live together. Sun + bios equals _life_


End file.
